


We Parted Our Lips

by annie_reckson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M, beach au, fishing au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6338230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annie_reckson/pseuds/annie_reckson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Need more people to be satisfied</i><br/>No fear of a god and prayer for the night<br/>You come into our minds and rush through our lives<br/>We parted our lips and reached from inside</p><p> </p><p>A sequel/continuation of sorts to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4305765">Do Wrong Right</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	We Parted Our Lips

The fresh, crisp ocean breeze feels absolutely perfect on his face. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the way the _Sea Wolf_ looks as it crests wave after wave. Or how lucky he is that Scott always seems to whip his shirt off as soon as they leave the docks, as if having the cloth over his bare chest for the ride over there was physically painful enough. As always, Derek offers to let them sit inside while he drives the boat out into open waters, but as always, Scott and Stiles refuse on principle. What’s the point of being out in the ocean if they’re not able to _feel_ it?

Just looking at the rippling waves isn’t enough, Stiles needs to be able to dip his hand just enough to feel the splash of the cascading water. He needs to feel the heat of the sun beating down on his shoulders where he _knows_ they’ll end up a little bit pink despite the layers of sunscreen he put on this morning (and the huge bottle of SPF 50 that Derek keeps in the cabin of the boat because he knows how badly and easily Stiles can get a sunburn). And okay, yeah, maybe Stiles and Scott don’t _need_ to always re-enact the “King of the World” scene from Titanic _every time_ they go out on the boat together, but it’s really fun to do, so they do it anyway.

Derek always rolls his eyes, but Stiles believes that he secretly finds it hilarious.

When Derek finds a good spot, he slows the motor down and yells down to Scott to start baiting the hooks. Stiles, of course, tries to help, but isn’t nearly as efficient as Scott is at securing the bait. Not to mention, Stiles still feels a bit squeamish when it comes to touching dead fish parts.

They’ve got some squid chopped up that he’s almost okay with, but there are bumpers, ladyfish, and mackerel just swimming around the little reservoir they have in the boat and watching Scott cut them up for bait, much less handling the squishy fish pieces, makes his stomach turn a little. Thankfully, Scott is the best boyfriend _ever_ and _always_ slides the meat onto the hooks for Stiles without teasing him.

“Hey babe,” Derek shouts down from his perch, both of them look up but Derek winks at Stiles, “What do you do when a dead fish washes up on the beach?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Oh ha ha ha, Derek. I’ll have to know that I have an agreement with Boyd and Malia.”

Derek raises his eyebrows, “Oh really?”

“Yes,” He defiantly states, “They handle all the dead fish and... I take care of the kids who can’t find their parents.”

“Aww, bro!” Scott gives him a beaming smile, “That’s so sweet!”

Stiles shrugs, “I don’t mind. I just happen to be better with the little ones than Boyd and Malia are.”

“Yeah but still,” Scott trails a hand up Stiles’s side, “It’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Oh really?” Stiles cocks an eyebrow and shifts them so that Scott’s back is to the ledge of the boat.

“Yeah really,” Scott playfully leans forward and nips Stiles’s nose.

With a sweet moan, Stiles closes the short distance between them to press their lips together, tasting the saltiness on Scott’s lips. Scott tugs him closer, pressing their hipbones tight and smiling into their kiss. The contact seems to send a current straight to his dick and Stiles parts his lips ever so slightly, letting out a small gasp. He’s just about to deepen the kiss when he feels a jet of water spraying against his shoulder.

He splutters and turns around to see Derek smirking from the upper deck, “Dude! What the fuck!”

Derek twirls the hose used for cleaning the deck, “Sorry you two, but it’s hard enough having to watch Scott all day, I’m not going sit here and have to watch the both of you.”

Scott pushes strands of hair out of his face and laughs, “Harsh, dude. But understandable.”

Stiles bites his bottom lip, “We could always take this inside...” He adds in an eyebrow wiggle to sweeten the deal.

“We should _at least_ get some fishing done first, Stiles,” Derek shakes his head.

“He’s right man,” Scott gives him a sympathetic look, “I _have_ already baited the hooks and everything.”

“Alright, alright guys. I get it. Fishing before fisting.”

Derek sprays him with the hose again.

 

-

 

“Same wager as usual today, guys?” Derek asks as he prepares to cast his rod.

“Fuck _yes_ , I _love_ that wager,” Stiles blurts out, already pumping his fist.

Scott shrugs and smiles, “Sure, that’s fine with me.”

Stiles nudges him with his shoulder, “Don’t act so nonchalant. You know you love the wager, mostly because you usually _win_ it.”

“Not this time,” Derek booms out from above them, with a grin, “I’m feeling like the great lord Poseidon himself is on my side today,” He makes his way downstairs and picks out the thickest rod they own before settling in at the front of the boat.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Sure dude. You rely on a long-dead deity while I let my skill take the wheel.”

Scott snorts, “Skill?”

Stiles gives him a gentle push, “Hey! I am just as capable as the two of you! Just because I spend my days _saving_ tourists instead of _watching_ them fish-”

“Hey!” Derek shouts, “We catch our fair share, too!”

“Of course you guys do,” Stiles teases, “Best of luck to you both, just focus on catching fish instead of all the _dirty, dirty_ things I’m going to do to you both when I win,” Stiles cheekily grins at them both, then finally lets his line sink.

The wager, of course, is Stiles’s favorite thing about fishing with his boyfriends. It was concocted the second or third time they took the boat out because Stiles was too busy pressing himself against Scott’s muscular back or rubbing his hand along the outline of Derek’s dick in his board shorts to actually focus on fishing. So, as a result, the wager was born.

It was simple: the first one to catch a fish gets to decide what sort of lascivious activities they engage in when they take their midday break from the sun and heat. Usually Scott wins, because he’s some sort of deranged Fish Whisperer who somehow coaxes fish onto his hook with black magic. At least that’s Stiles’s current theory.

Although, Scott winning was never a bad thing. Last time, his obsession with their asses had led to him rimming one of them while fingering the other open, switching back and forth as he pleased while Stiles and Derek fervently clutched the bed sheets and panted.

So yeah, Stiles isn’t actually _complaining_ about not winning, he’s just had a bit of a dry spell that he’d like to end. While it’s true that Scott and Derek _do_ have more experience fishing, Stiles isn’t exactly a novice. Even before he’d moved to the coast, he spent a fair percentage of his childhood fishing with his dad. Plus, he’s got the perfect idea in mind should he manage to be the first one to actually catch something.

He feels weight on his line and waits a beat before furiously winding it back up, all the while triumphantly chanting. When the hook finally surfaces, though, it’s heart-breakingly empty.  Stiles’s shoulders slump but Scott just smiles and re-baits his hook.

Right about the same time, Derek’s larger rod starts bending and he lets out a loud grunt as he pulls the rod back and starts reeling the line in. From Stiles’s viewpoint, he can see the how taut the muscles in Derek’s back are, whatever’s on his line has to be _huge_. Just as he’s about to pull it out of the water, the line goes slack and Derek starts cursing.

Stiles jogs over just as he finishes pulling the line up, sans bait _and_ hook, “Aw shit, dude. Looks like you got your shit stolen by a shark.”

Derek huffs, “Probably.”

Scott walks up and claps him on the arm, “No worries, man. Here, use this one until I get a new hook on that one,” He hands Derek a different rod, slightly smaller, “And for real guys, we didn’t come out here to feed the fish!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

On his way back to his spot on the deck, Stiles makes a detour to their cooler and grabs out beers for everyone. It’s nearly ten in the morning and part of him is hoping that the alcohol will enhance his fishing abilities. In any case, it can’t hurt. Both Scott and Derek give him appreciative grins when he hands their beers over; Scott shaking his up a bit so it foams when he opens it. Stiles playfully shoves him as Scott lets the sloshy liquid fall over his mouth and shoulders, his mouth wide and open with his tongue sticking out.

He isn’t sure if he’s imagining it or not when he spies Derek trying to discreetly adjust himself. Not that it’s something easy to hide with the tight sort of shorts he always wears. 

Reluctantly, Stiles turns away from both of them to focus on dropping his line back in the water. It’s been a good few outings since he’s won the wager, and he’s aching to change that. And not just because he’s eager to quell the doubts about his fishing skill.

After a couple more tries and failed nibbles - with Scott dutifully reapplying bait each time with a subtle grin, Stiles finally gets a tug that feels secure. He grits his teeth and starts furiously reeling his line it, letting it drop and jerking it back up in rhythm just the way he was taught. After what seems like forever, the fish finally comes up out of the water with a splash and Stiles turns to drop it in the boat with a triumphant shout.

“Yes! _Fuck yes_ , check it out guys! First catch! _First catch!”_

Scott hurriedly steps over to take the fish off the hook, “Dude! A vermillion snapper, nice,” Scott grips the fish around the head, “You are going to make some delicious tacos, my slippery friend!”

“Let me see, let me see,” Stiles frantically gestures for Scott to hold the fish up at eye-level, “Thank you so much for deciding that the bait on my hook looked delicious enough to eat, I won’t forget you or your sacrifice, little man,” He leans forward and smooches the fish on its upper lip.

“Stiles that is so gross,” Derek states from his position at the front of the boat.

“Are you jealous, Derek? Do you need some kisses, too?”

Derek’s eyes widen as Stiles gives him a cocky smile and starts jogging over with his lips pursed. He abandons his pole and flees backwards before Stiles can reach him, carefully dodging the many obstacles on the boat.

“Scott, grab him!” Stiles shouts out as Derek skirts past where Scott is dropping the fish into their ice chest.

“No way dude, I am in no way aiding or abetting you get fish germs on Derek’s mouth.”

Stiles playfully shoots him a middle finger as he follows in pursuit, “You are no fun, Scott McCall.”

Derek cocks an eyebrow at him as he’s jogging backwards - because of course Derek can seamlessly jog backwards, “Scott isn’t stupid. He knows that he might want to do things to this mouth later.”

“That is 100% accurate,” Scott agrees, nodding as he turns his attention back to his own fishing line.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll just take care of this myself, then,” Stiles huffs out, already starting to feel out of breathe.

He slowly starts increasing his speed and waits until they’re on the side of the boat and has Derek clearly in his sights and only about five feet away. Then, he lunges forward, catching Derek off guard and grabbing onto his shoulders, twisting them until Derek’s back is flat against the side of the cabin. Biting his lower lip, Stiles is just about to lean in when Derek surprises him by flipping them around, incidentally knocking the wind out of him.

“Nice try,” Derek taunts, before lazily running his tongue flat up Stiles’s long neck, “Better luck next time fish-boy,” With a smirk, he releases him and walks back toward his fishing rod.

Stiles grunts absently, “Totally not fair, dude.”

“Hey,” Derek shrugs, “I promised you dorks a mahi-mahi, didn’t I?”

With the pressure off, Derek and Scott start setting up various fishing rods all over the ship to increase their chances. Stiles never understood how they could focus on so many at once, but sure enough, Scott is always right there whenever there’s the slightest tug on any of the lines near him. It takes all of Stiles’s attention to commit to his one fishing rod, but then again, he’s got two huge distractions and a very short attention span.

He knows it’s not his imagination when his breezy shorts start to feel tighter, but he tries his hardest to ignore it and mimic the intense focus that Scott and Derek are somehow able to muster. It’s not easy.

 

***

 

After a few hours, they’ve managed a pretty impressive haul. Scott is a red snapper-catching _machine_ , about a dozen of the ones lying flat in their ice chest are definitely his doing. Of course, Derek came through with his promise of catching them a mahi-mahi, a harrowing catch that had Stiles so focused on the bulging veins and muscles in Derek’s arms that he almost missed when the huge fish finally broke the surface of the water.

Stiles definitely feels like he’s done his part. His main issue seems to be that ramoras are insanely attracted to whatever bait he puts on his line, but there’s also quite a few grouper and a cobia or two that he’s very proud of catching. Not just because it’s proof that he absolutely has some fishing skills.

And, of course, there’s still the fact that he had the first catch, which he’s been gleefully mulling over the whole afternoon. Judging by the warm looks Scott has been giving him, he hasn’t forgotten either. It feels like a blessing when Derek rubs a firm hand along his shoulder and lets him know that it’s time to break for lunch.

That morning, Scott and Stiles had made sandwiches together - playfully bumping into each other while listening to some beachy playlist Scott always played before their fishing trips - while Derek sat on the deck with his morning coffee and a newspaper. They weren’t particularly special sandwiches, just basic deli meat and veggies with mayo (although they were on the special whole-grain bread Derek liked from the organic bakery in town), but they were the perfect refresher for them after sitting in the sun for a few hours.

“So Stiles,” Scott asks, crooked smile in place, “Have anything in mind for later?”

Stiles wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “Actually, as it happens, I have something _spectacular_ planned.”

“Care to enlighten us?” Derek asks, sipping from his beer.

“You’ll both find out soon enough,” Stiles winks, “Just enjoy your sandwiches and relax.”

“Well...look, FYI, I pulled in a lot of fish today and my shoulder muscles are killing me,” Scott winces, “So I hope you’re not expecting anything super flexible out of me or anything...”

“Don’t worry, Scott, you’ll be well supported. You and those sore muscles.”

Derek nudges him with his knee, “C’mon Stiles, what’s with the secrecy? Last time, Scott was practically busting to tell us as soon as he reeled his line in,” He cuts Stiles off with gesture, “No innuendo intended, Stiles.”

“Last time was pretty amazing,” Scott smiles and stares off in the distance, obviously recounting their prior fishing trip.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles raises an eyebrow, “Let me just finish this last bite, okay?”

He knows that their gaze is on him as he eats, but he can’t resist taking his sweet time enjoying his sandwich. Not that he really wants to rush, it is a pretty delicious sandwich. Plus, while Stiles hates when other people keep him in suspense, seeing the anticipation growing across their faces is always a pleasure.

There’s some mayo leaking out the back of his sandwich and he immediately twists his wrist so he can lick up the side of it before it drips and makes a mess. He feels more than hears the groans coming from Derek while he does so, which makes him think that maybe he’s tortured them long enough.

Stiles licks his lips and grins, “Alright, alright. Of course, you guys can always back out, I’d never force you two into anything you didn’t want to do, but-”

“Stiles,” Derek rolls his eyes, “I love you but you’re driving me nuts right now. 

“Hey man, I just want to make sure you guys would be comfortable with this, and that you both know that you don’t have to do it if you’re not okay with it and I’d never be upset with you for it. Don’t worry Scott, I see your eyes bulging, it’s not anything weird. It’s just something that I’ve kinda wanted for... awhile actually.”

“It’s okay man, no worries,” Scott shrugs, bits of bread crowded around his mouth.

“Okay uh,” Stiles takes a deep breath, “I’d really like for you to fuck Scott...while I watch.”

Derek nods, “Okay.”

“Really? You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Not really, I mean, it is something that you’ve thought about before, right?”

“More than a few times, if I’m being honest. You know, when I’ve been,” Stiles makes a wanking off gesture, ignoring the groan coming from Derek’s direction.

“Dude, I can be totally down with that,” Scott smiles, “How, like, involved do you wanna be though?”

“I dunno man, right now I’m thinking not at all, but I could change my mind. Would that be okay?”

Derek rests a hand on his shoulder, “Do you really think either of us is going to say you can’t join in if you want to?”

Stiles huffs, “Alright, touche’, or whatever.”

“Cool,” Scott balls up the saran wrap that had been holding his sandwich and tosses it in the trash, “So are we going to do this or what?”

“You’re okay with doing it...now?”

“Yeah dude, I need a break from fishing.”

“Okay umm...” Stiles raises his eyebrows at Derek, “Are you okay with that?”

“I am very much okay with that,” Derek gathers up the rest of their mess, “Let me just check to make sure that we’re properly anchored and I’ll meet you guys down there.”

Derek leans over to give them both kisses on the forehead before leaving the cabin. He’s barely gone before Scott is linking his hand with Stiles and tugging him down the steps to their bedroom. To be honest, Stiles is still running high off the two of them not thinking there's something wrong with him; he just can’t help being obsessed over how crazy-hot both of their bodies are, especially engaged in coitus. Not that it’s unusual for any two of them to have sex without the other, but consensual voyeurismjust seems to add a whole different layer to it.

It wasn’t long ago that he started fantasizing about the two of them, specifically about walking into their little beach house and seeing them already going at it. There was never any jealousy in these fantasies, just complete appreciation of his gorgeous boyfriends, mouths open, sweat running down their chests, eyes locked on him like they were doing this _for_ him. Like they _knew_ he really wanted to see this.

Stiles has an idea of what it means when Derek sends the two of them down before him, he thinks he knows what Derek believes he’s giving to him, and he’s pretty sure Scott’s aware, too. Suspicions are confirmed when Scott grabs him in a fierce kiss as soon as they hit the bedroom, his thick, nimble fingers grasping Stiles’s neck and cradling his head. There’s no tongue in it, just drawn-out dragging of Scott’s lips against his, interspersed with ridiculous moaning that only someone like Scott could muster up unironically. Stiles cants his hips forward, pleased to find that parts of Scott are already getting with the program as well.

Scott breaks the kiss to shift and whisper, “Do you wanna open me up while we wait?”

“Fuck, Scotty,” Stiles hisses out, “Yes, yes, absolutely.”

Scott releases him with a clumsy grin, lips bright pink and slick with their combined spit. He tugs his board shorts off before Stiles even has a chance to move. Stiles is only able to stare dumbly and watch as every expanse of Scott’s tanned, toned skin is exposed to the recycled air around them.

Of course, Scott notices how love-stoned Stiles is and wiggles his ass at him menacingly before belly-flopping on the bed. He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at Stiles, as if to ask him why he was taking so long. It’s really more than any reasonable man should have to take.

Stiles fumbles and nearly loses his balance when he makes his way around the bed to the small dresser where they keep their supplies. The lube is on top, unsurprisingly, next to a vibrator that Derek is particularly fond of (it’s big and nubby and Stiles doesn’t understand the appeal, but it gets Derek going like nothing else). He takes a moment to once again appreciate all of Scott laid out for him before he finally kneels on the bed, aware that Scott is growing ever-impatient.

He pours the lube on his fingers, probably way more than necessary but the last thing he wants to do is ruin the mood by causing Scott any amount of pain. It takes some coaxing with his long middle finger, plus constant mumblings of praise and rubbing his free hand down Scott’s back, to get Scott to open up, although his finger slides easily after that.

With a stoicness that even Derek would be proud of, Stiles determinedly stops himself from moving to a second finger before he’s certain Scott is ready. The gasping whines that eventually come out of his mouth are usually a good sign. His pointer finger slides in with little resistance, Scott’s skin stretching under his touch.

“That's it, babe, that's so good,” Scott whines out.

Stiles loses himself in the sight of his fingers disappearing between Scott’s cheeks over and over again. There's a small pool of sweat forming at the base of Scott's back and Stiles can only contain himself for so long before he lowers so his lips to taste the sweet saltiness. He whines with appreciation, sucking what will likely be a dark bruise on Scott’s tanned skin the next day. Then, he buries his fingers into Scott, pushing in with even more effort than before, unable to control his want to be as much inside of Scott as possible.

A stuttered groan from behind him is all the warning Stiles gets of Derek’s presence before his rough hands are sliding up Stiles’s back, gliding the thin fabric of his tank top until Stiles is forced to remove his fingers from Scott and pull it up over his head. Derek’s lips and teeth are on him in an instant, wetting the area all around his shoulder and neck. As soon as he’s able, Stiles twists so their mouths can meet, messily, flavored with Scott’s sweat.

He’s in an incredibly uncomfortable position, but kissing Derek feels so good that he doesn’t even mind. Derek seems to notice, coaxing Stiles until he’s turned and facing Derek. The new position allows them to deepen the kiss, giving Derek the opportunity to tug on Stiles’s bottom lip until Stiles is practically mewling.

Reluctantly, Derek pulls away, giving Stiles a shy smile before stepping back and seamlessly stripping himself. No matter how many times he sees it, he’s always struck with a tiny bit of awe that he gets to see this. That he gets to see either of them, really. Stiles knows that he’s gaping, but he can hardly help it.

Scott sits up and crawls over to wrap his warm arms around Stiles’s back, “So...how do you want us?”

“Uh, hold on, there’s a lot going on here at once.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “You’ve seen us naked many times by now Stiles.”

“Doesn’t mean I ever get used to it.”

“It’s cool,” Scott tugs him closer, “Take all the time you need, dude.”

“I'm okay,” Stiles exhales, then shifts to cross his legs, “I’m not exactly sure how to describe it but...”

It takes Stiles a few minutes, and a lot of odd gestures, before he finally gets them to understand what he wants. Then, it takes some discussion between the two of them to decide the best way for them to get into the position. All the while, Stiles stays cross-legged, eyeing both of them like he’s sure they’re about to back out of the whole thing.

Finally, Scott braces himself on his elbows and knees, letting Derek bend over him and start pressing in, slowly and steadily. Stiles fixates on the slack-jawed, raw expression Scott’s wearing while Derek takes his time stretching his opening with his cock. He notices immediately when Derek’s fully inside, the way Scott gasps out and grabs at their comforter.

As if the image of that wasn’t enough to get Stiles aroused, he then watches as Derek wraps an arm around Scott’s torso and starts lifting him up. Scott pushes up, allowing himself to be moved and shifted until Derek is on his knees with Scott seated on top of him. It doesn’t look completely comfortable at first, and Stiles is about to say something, but then Derek wraps his other arm around Scott and Scott widens his knees, gasping out loud when he does so, and Stiles gets lost. 

There, in front of him, is Scott stretched out in all his glory, face tilted towards the ceiling, with Derek’s muscular arms holding him up while Derek’s stubbled face nuzzles at his shoulder. After another second of adjusting, Scott reaches up with one arm to grip Derek's hair and nods at him, a signal that he can start to move. Derek lifts him carefully as he rises and falls on the nest of Derek’s thighs. The small space they have to move allows them to get into a rhythm easily, and makes sure that Derek stays deeply-seated inside of Scott.

Watching Scott’s abdomen flex as he moves nearly has Stiles losing it, and he rushes to shove his shorts down and free his aching dick. The tip is already dripping with precome, slick enough that his hand moves fairly easily, even more aided by the traces of lube still left on his palm. Scott’s eyes flick down at him and he grins, which only encourages Stiles further. He watches while Scott occasionally jumps and lets out a higher-pitched moan than usual, a sure sign that Derek's found his prostate.

Stiles lasts a few more minutes, eyes glued to the amazing, kinetic sight before him, before he jumps up and presses himself against Scott. His lips are on Scott’s chest in an instant, fighting to catch every bead of sweat that trails across his skin. He's unable to resist wrapping his mouth around Scott's hardening nipples and alternating between sucking and biting down Scott fumbles his fingers clumsily against Stiles, but isn’t able to do much given the way he’s moving against Derek.

Eager to taste more of Scott's flexing skin, Stiles drags his tongue along the sweat covering Scott’s collarbone and sucks wet kisses up his shoulder until he’s able to meet Derek’s open mouth. Their kiss is sloppy, mostly licking inside the other’s mouth, desperate just to taste the other. Stiles shifts a bit, moves just enough so that he can get a hand between him and Scott, grasping onto Scott’s warm cock.

He lifts himself some, angled so his cock can brush against Scott’s, so he can tangle his fingers around them both. The delicious noises coming out of Scott’s mouth are borderline addictive and Stiles chases them, moving from Derek’s mouth to Scott’s. All he can do is hold his open mouth against Scott’s slack one, but it’s enough to feel the gasps of air against his lips. If he focuses, he can feel every thrust that Derek makes further into Scott's body, and Stiles starts matching his own pace to the one Derek's set. Scott notices immediately and increases his movement, thrusting up faster into Stiles's fist and slamming down harder on Derek's dick.

With a deep grunt, Derek’s body stiffens for a moment and Scott lets out a sweet moan as Derek comes inside of him. Stiles tightens his hand around them both, squeezing and going faster, wanting to see the look on Scott’s face when he comes and knowing that it won’t take much. Derek is still holding Scott up, refusing to slack even as Stiles knows he wants nothing more than to relax.

Then, it happens, and there’s thick liquid covering his hand and wrist. After a few more pumps, Stiles releases him, allowing him to slump over onto the bed to catch his breath. Stiles is nearly there himself, he only needs to give himself a little bit more and he knows he’ll be there.

He’s splayed on his back on the bed, near to his own finish, when Derek surprises him by hovering over his nearly prone body. Derek gives him a satiated, feral grin and covers his hand with his own, encouraging Stiles to go slower, torturously slow. Stiles bites his lip, both hating Derek and loving what he’s doing at the same time. Of course, at that moment Derek chooses to tighten the pressure and move their hands so they’re just working on the oversensitive tip. That’s all Stiles needs to reach the edge. If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t remember the last time he came this much.

When it’s all over, he’s not entirely sure any of his limbs work anymore. After he hopelessly flops his arms a few times just to be sure, he’s definitely convinced that the two of them have somehow broke him. Derek’s body is slumped across his own, his stubble scratching against the soft skin on his neck.

Scott and his ridiculous mess of hair appears over Derek’s back, “So dude,” He grins and rests his chin on his fist, “Was it everything you hoped and more?”

“It was...pretty amazing,” Stiles breathes out, smiling.

Derek mumbles something into the bed.

“What was that, big guy?” Stiles nudges him a bit.

“I am in full agreement,” Derek lifts his face inches from the mattress, “Also, Scott, you’re kinda digging your elbow into my back, so uh...”

“Oh!” Scott’s eyes widen, “I am so sorry, dude,” He scrambles off and reappears near their heads.

“I need like, the longest nap right now,” Stiles admits, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, the one not currently pinned beneath Derek’s body weight.

“Yeah, I could definitely go for that,” Scott nods lazily, “And then maybe like a billion pancakes.”

Derek turns his head, “How about I fry up some of that mahi-mahi for us tonight? After a nap.”

“Fuckin’ awesome idea, baby, as always!” Scott scoots in closer to them.

Stiles smiles big and tilts his head to bury his lips in Derek’s hair. He can feel the vibration of the two of them snoring before he feels himself drifting off. He fucking loves winning the wager.

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you wanna come play in [my trashcan](http://somnambulipstick.tumblr.com) with me :D


End file.
